Holy cow ... This is too much

Just to let you know, I'm writing this column on one day's rest and a lot of jet lag, so if I can't go the distance, you'll understand why.

Greece was wonderful, thanks for asking. There's no truth to the rumor, by the way, that my wife, Jill, and I went to the Greek island of Santorini on our honeymoon to honor Ron Santo.

It is true, however, that late one evening, after the sun had set and the sky was dizzy with stars, I left my wife alone in our romantic villa in search of a Cubs score.

It was necessary, I assure you. During the 11 days we were there I saw approximately two minutes of Cubs' highlights and ate 82 olives, compared to the previous 11 days when I ate two olives and watched 8,200 hours of Cubs highlights.

Europe is no place for a baseball fan, not in late September and certainly not in October. The only place to get a score that isn't two days old is by watching the scroll on CNN International or handing over some Euros for a few minutes of Internet access.

The half-mile walk to the strip where I knew I'd find a computer took me by a few local restaurants and bars, which earlier in the evening were occupied by dozens of young men all tuned in to the same thrilling soccer match. I asked the men in one joint if they had a Cubs score for me, but they gave me a Yellow Card, and I had to leave the bar.

Further down the road, I took a seat in an Internet cafe on Santorini, lit up a cigar and watched on the computer screen as the Cubs took a 6-0 lead in their division-clinching game against Pittsburgh last Saturday.

As a few men quietly played billiards nearby, it was all so serene watching the computer game-tracking device tell me all I needed or wanted to know. In my head, I could clearly imagine the mayhem that was going on at Wrigley Field and all over Chicago.

But there was no place on Earth I would rather have been than right where I was, which was all alone enjoying the moment.

It wasn't so bad missing out on watching these games, even as the playoffs began and it was clear to me that while I'd be sound asleep, legions of Cub fans would be in a frenzy. You see, I'm not good at watching Cubs games when I'm a fan and not an Impartial Member Of The Media.

When I watch at the ballpark or with friends, I pace around and rant about every little thing that doesn't go in the Cubs favor. I even kicked a wall once. Once. It's very immature.

But then I discovered the solution of watching games at an Internet cafe in Santorini, or its equivalent. I had no choice but to sleep through the first three playoff games due to the eight-hour time difference and find out what happened from the CNN scroll.

Knowing that I'd be checking the TV first thing in the morning, I had a recurring dream, at least two or three each night, in which I learned the score. Sometimes the Cubs won, sometimes they lost. It was not a restful sleep, and I'm thankful to not have to do that anymore.

For Sunday night's series clincher, I stayed home and watched alone, turned the sound off on my television and didn't make a peep the entire game. No groans, moans or cheers. Not even after the final out.

I did breathe a sigh of relief, but it came with the knowledge the Cubs may have as many as 14 playoff games left in October. That's another 40-45 hours of grueling, nail-biting, historical baseball.